


Lost Momentum

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, First Age, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: The selves we could be and the selves we fear to become.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	Lost Momentum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daphnerunning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/gifts).



> Hello daphnerunning, here is my gift work for you. I was supposed to make you unhappy and I tried my best.

Findekáno cannot claim that spent much time in Fëanánro's house. He had been born on his family's estate near Tirion. With various uncles, aunts and cousins around, he had enough friends and no reason to travel the long way into the north where his uncle lived. His father's cooling relationship with Fëanáro leads to the odd fact that Findekáno was an adult before saw the place where his uncle resided with his wife and children. 

As a member of the royal family and as the oldest son of Nolofinwë, Findekáno was used to a certain kind of luxury. His mother kept a tasteful estate with private studies for her children. They had a library, a handful of servants he had known since childhood that kept the house clean, and their park around the estate.

Anairë claimed she did not wish to share her time with her husband with petitioners. 

"Come along," Tyelkormo greets him when they reach his father's house. "I will show you the stables." 

The silver-haired elf drags Findekáno through an ensemble of mismatched huts. There is no clear order to them, only path barely wide enough fit a carriage through the alleys. Findekáno looks around, searching for the multi-storied main house his uncle and his cousin live in. He expects it must be huge, far larger than his own home. His uncle is the King's oldest son, and the most favoured, with far more children. To fit them into a single house, Findekáno keeps looking for a palace not unlike the one grandfather Finwë build over the years. 

"Where is everyone?" Findekáno finally asks when he steps out of the stable. In the last hour, he had been distracted by the fact that he is expected to take care of his horse himself. 

It is not a hardship, merely a confusing change to the routine he is accustomed to. As the son of a noble Prince, this is not the greeting he usually receives. 

Tyelkormo shrugs. "Around." 

His cousin doesn't understand the question. He leads Findekáno past a clutter of workshops. Instead of a paved road, they wade through mud and have evaded a flock of chickens walking around. There is no fence around the coop, only a sleepy dog keeping watch. 

Findekáno barely dares to breathe. He feels like he stepped into an unfamiliar world. Smoke rises from chimneys on the roofs. Heavy and strange scents reach his nose. Tyelkormo greets every person crossing their way. But none bows or appears like servants fulfilling their tasks. The people around them are dressed like normal villagers. Casual and in work-clothes. Leather aprons with tools tugged into large pockets seems to be the most popular clothing. 

Hair is kept in simple braids, their design meant to keep it out of the way. 

With his ribbons weaved into his hairstyle, Findekáno feels like an outsider. Even in his travel gear, he finds himself dressed far too formal in comparison. 

"Who are these people?" Findekáno asks Tyelkormo after his cousin stopped for another chat. 

He is met with a raised eyebrow. 

"I mean, why do you need so many buildings?"

"They belong to relatives or father's coworkers." Tyelkormo shrugs. The sight of so many people around his home does not seem to faze him. He points a collection of sturdy buildings on their left. "That is most of the workshops we keep on this ground. It is easier to share. That's what you get with so many craftsmen in the family." 

Tyelkormo elaborates that his mother comes from a line of artists. Most of her siblings and extended family ended up living in the area when Fëanáro moved away from Tirion to build his family a home that would fit them all. 

* * *

"I still do not get it. How can you live like this? It is chaotic." Findekáno exclaims later when he finally found Russandol. He is sitting on his cousin's bed, glad to have finally some privacy. 

It had been a long and loud day, filled with people wishing to meet him. Findekáno barely knew half of the faces around the long table and that was with every single of Fëanáro's children attending dinner. Which took place in a separate building. It was a large hall. One large room with an enormous kitchen attached to it. 

Russandol's laugh shakes the entire room. Findekáno does not mind the teasing mockery he read in his cousin's face. At least, they are alone. A novelty Findekáno did not think to experience ever again. 

"I know, this must look strange to you. We live here far differently than what you are used to in Tirion." 

Findekáno followed Maitimo's invitation eagerly. He had never visited this part of Valinor before and it feels important that Russandol wants to share his home with him. Especially, since Findekáno had not dared to do the same in reverse. He is too anxious about what his father would say if he finds Nelyafinwë in his corridors. 

Fëanáro had not paid attention to him at all, though Findekáno had sat only a few seats away from him. A few times, his uncle looked at him with a puzzled expression. Like he could not place his face. 

When Findekáno mentions this to Russandol, the tall not-so-princely-looking Elf laughs so hard he doubles over. 

"Very likely, Finno. Father never counts the people seated at the dinner table. While I told him you were visiting, I doubt he deemed it important enough to remember the date of your arrival." He adds, "It is Nolofinwë he argues with. That does not extend to you. For him, you are one of the too many nieces and nephews he has to keep track of. Do not hold it against him." 

Findekáno thinks that he is very glad that he does not have to confront his uncle with his existence. 

Maitimo throws his long beautiful hair over his shoulder and sends him a wide grin. Findekáno promptly forgets his reply. 

A whine tears out of his throat when Maitimo leans over to kiss him. 

"Do you mind that my home is different from what you are used to in Tirion?" Maitimo rumbles and places soft kisses on Findekáno's neck.

"Not at all," he answers, breathless. "You are here."

* * *

The ships are gone. 

Findekáno does not wish to believe it. He argues with his father constantly. Anger burns through his veins and he spits hate and bile at everyone willing to listen.

He curses the name of his uncle and grinds his teeth because Nolofinwë remains quiet. His father leads them across the ice, through deep snow and biting hunger. 

"I cannot effort to waste my energy on anger," he says when Findekáno confronts him about his lack of fury. That's all he says about the matter. Later, after they hear the news about Fëanáro's death, Findekáno never dares to bring the subject up again. 

Turukáno shakes his head in quiet resignation when Findekáno voices his displeasure one evening. 

"I never put much stock in Fëanáro in the first place," he claims. Like he never admired his uncle's designs and ideas on architecture. 

Arakáno drags him away later and shouts at he is sick of Findekáno's disappointment. 

"You are just angry that your lover didn't take you with him when they stranded us in Aman," Arakáno shouts into the bitterly cold night, leaving Findekáno stunned. "You would have happily left with them, had Nelyfinwë asked." 

Those words shake Findekáno. He watches Arakáno leave him as his brother disappears in Irissë's tent while he is unable to move. The accusation runs deeper than the cold. 

He asks Turukáno later, counting his brother, to be honest in the face of the death of his wife. 

_'Had you been born as a woman, you would have married Nelyafinwë a long time ago. You would have been living with them and you would wear their colours, instead of ours.'_ Turukáno's apathetic tone is worse than anger. It is like he knows already where Findekáno's loyalties lie. 

Findekáno turns quiet and tries not to think about why his head hurts so much. 

Once, he told Maitimo that he would follow him everywhere. When he said it the first time, he meant that he would weather any gossip Tirion might throw at them. 

In the light that he still wishes to be at Maitimo's side instead of living in a world of dark and cold, the promise gains a cruel weight. 

_My brothers believe I am a traitor,_ Findekáno thinks. He blinks the tears away because they would freeze stiff on his cheeks. 

* * *

Arakáno avoids him in the next years. Findekáno accepts the invisible line between them. Since he cannot make it right, trapped between his love for Maitimo and his loyalty towards his family, he vows to make it right when they reach the other side. 

But the day never comes. 

"Go away," Arakáno spats when he lies dying in his blood. "I don't want your hands on me. They have touched Fëanorian filth." 

The words get stuck in Findekáno's throat. He cannot defend Maitimo, and their love towards another, while Arakáno is bleeding out in his arms. 

Turukáno's raging grief reaches his ears when he stumbles upon them later and Findekáno does not know how he is supposed to look Maitimo into the eyes when they meet again. 

* * *

Findekáno has never been able to rebel against his father. Nolofinwë always yields to rational arguments and rarely outright denies his children their wishes. But the potential of his disappointment weights to heavy on Findekáno's shoulders to go against Nolofinwë's principles. He never truly clashed with his father and remains the dutiful son. 

Arakáno is barely a few weeks dead when Findekáno's world crumbles to ashes again. 

He braces himself for an ugly reunion between his father and his uncle. Maybe he longs to see the recognition Nolofinwë yearns for from his brother with his own eyes when Fëanáro is forced to admit he underestimated his younger half-brother. 

Instead of Fëanáro and Nelyafinwë, they only find Makalaurë. 

Makalaurë who is relieved to see them and is saddled with the burden to tell them the events that transpired since they parted ways. 

"I need to be alone," Nolofinwë rasps. 

Makalaurë drags Findekáno out of the tent to give his uncle time to grieve. His grip is surprisingly strong. He has put on muscle and got rid of the tunics he used to wear for his performances. He looks like an entirely different person. 

Findekáno wonders how he must appear to his cousin. Does he differ much from the Elf who swallowed in awe at the sight of his lover rising his sword into the sky when he vowed to take revenge? 

"Where is Maitimo?" Findekáno asks finally. His brothers know about his love. It had been impossible to keep the relationship from Russandol's siblings. "Where is he hiding? You owe it to me that I speak with him before the difficult diplomatic meetings crash down upon us." 

With his uncle's death, Nelyafinwë is King of the Noldor. Findekáno cannot imagine his father demanding the crown. Not with his terrible grief and the only chance to shed tears for his brother. 

_Father wouldn't want the crown. He will refuse to disrespect his brother's last wish,_ Findekáno thinks. 

If Nolofinwë becomes Highking, it will be taken as evidence that Fëanáro was right all along. 

Findekáno does not spare a single thought on how the Highkingship will affect his relationship with Maitimo. He wants to see him. He cannot say if he ever wants to hold him in his arms again, knowing that Maitimo chose to be loyal to his father. 

_They burned the ships,_ Findekáno swallows. 

For him, it is incomprehensible that Maitimo does not influence his father. Nelyafinwë was the only one Fëanáro ever listened to. Findekáno rarely witnessed the discussions in person but Maitimo practised his arguments on him, relying on Findekáno to be the partner pointing out the flaws in his logic. 

"Cousin," Makalaurë says. His voice is thick and his eyes full of pain. "Findekáno, I cannot take you to him. Nelyo is..." 

Any thoughts about burning ships, bitter arguments with Arakáno, and his little brother's death vanish when Makalaurë's words summon horrible, horrible ideas about why Maitimo is not here to greet him. 

He shakes his head, wordless, unable to face the reality of what Makalaurë is trying to tell him. 

* * *

Maitimo is not dead, Findekáno learns within an hour. 

It is worse. 

* * *

"Kill me." That is his lover's only demand when they meet again. 

Nelyafinwë's spirit burns. His hröa has been worn thin and now Findekáno believes the tale how his uncle burst into flames. It would be a mercy, he realizes. Years of torment and hardship freed Nelyafinwë's might from the depth of his soul. 

He is terrifying to look at. His hair frames his face like a crown. 

"Kill me, Findekáno," Nelyafinwë orders. He does not beg like the songs will later describe the situation. "You do not know the beast you are going to unleash." 

Findekáno shakes his head and puts the arrow down. 

"No." 

* * *

Nothing turns out the way Findekáno wants. His return with Nelyafinwë in his arms in the last time anything goes according to plan. What follows is chaos he cannot control. 

Nelyafinwë gives up the crown, Nolofinwë becomes Highking of the Noldor, and neither is happy with the decision. 

"Why?" Findekáno screams one day. He just realized he is the crown prince. 

An artist approached him with a design appropriate for his new status. It elevates him to the same level Fëanáro was when Finwë reigned. Findekáno cannot wrap his head around the fact. He is not worthy of the comparison. 

He is supposed to kneel when Nelyafinwë enters the negotiations. 

Watching him bow is false and wrong. It is a mockery of the way things are supposed to be. 

Russandol ignores him and continues with his exercises. Sweat runs down his back and he does not seem to mind that he kisses the dirt every time his good arm gives out under him. 

"I am a monster, Finno. I cannot rule the Noldor with so much violence in my heart." His eyes are soft and his rough hands brush Findekáno's hair out of the way. 

It is the tenderness Findekáno missed on the Helcaraxë. The absence kept him awake at night. The wish to feel those lips on his again gave him the strength to put one foot in front of the other in the endless wandering through the deep snow. 

When Russandol pulls away, Findekáno barely recognizes the person looming over him. If Nelyafinwë burned on the Thangorodrim, he cooled down by now, transforming Fëanáro's oldest son into an entirely different person. 

"Maitimo..." Findekáno wants to argue. He wants to dig his fingers into his lover's skin and never let him out of his sight. 

"Maitimo was a child of Aman. He is dead." Nelyafinwë smiles as he used to when he told Findekáno he would love him forever. "My name is Maedhros, from now on. Please refrain from touching me in the future. These days I cannot stand the thought.“ 

Taking a step backwards hurts. There might as well be another ocean between them. 

"Farewell, cousin," Maedhros says and chooses his grudge against Morgoth. The only love Findekáno can read in his eyes is for his father, his brothers and the oath. 

Findekáno is not a priority. He is something Maedhros is capable of sacrificing. 

The words resonate in Findekáno's soul. The echo destroys his determination to turn the tide. In the end, Findekáno lets Maedhros go. He does not know _this_ Elf well enough to demand trust, secrets or intimacy. 

He tries to convince himself that he can learn to love the new person Nelyafinwë turned into. He considers running after him, asking him for a place at his side. 

Arakáno’s ghost holds him back and his little brother’s words chain him to the ground. Findekáno struggles to breathe. There is an iron-collar made of duty around his neck, holding him prisoner. Thus he drowns his hope to return to the days where he spends his time laughing with Russandol, sharing laughter, kisses, and secrets. 

Months later Maedhros leaves Lake Mithrim to build a realm in East Beleriand and Findekáno remains behind. He never follows him. Maedhros remains in Himring and rarely visits Hithlum. Usually, he sends Makalaurëor a minor member of his house, claiming in his letters that he cannot spare a single warrior. The few times he gives up his guarding post to make the journey westwards, it is to converse with Nolofinwë. 

Findekáno never looks at Maedhros long enough to figure out if his claim to have turned into a monster is true. 

Later, in the halls, Findekáno watches Maedhros commit atrocities. He hates himself for being pushed away. He hates Maedhros for turning him into an outsider. Helpless to do anything but watch how sweet Russandol unravels until he disappears into a ball of fire. 

He hates Maedhros for being right. 


End file.
